Scars
by Lyon.The.Demon
Summary: What happens when the latest UnSub to reach the BAU's attention leaves a note for them, stating that there will be more killings? Also, how does Reid deal with the increasing pressure of being not only the youngest on the team, but a genius as well?
1. Chapter 1

_Judge Carlos pondered around his kitchen, stopping every now and then to take a bite of the chocolate bar he held in his hands. The house maid, Merryl, was just finishing up dusting the living room and had started to wipe down the pictures Carlos had hanging around. While she was facing away from him, the judge took his opportunity to admire her backside while he took another bite of the chocolate. The slightly bitter taste to it escaped his mind as he watched the young lady work._

_She was really quite beautiful, Carlos thought to himself, his heart speeding up. Wondering to himself if he should make her his newest lover, Carlos suddenly realized her image was becoming blurry. Odd, he thought, and tried to shake his head, blinking to clear his vision, but that only served to make him become dizzy. His heart was pounding at a threatening rate now, causing a horrible pain in his chest. And then he couldn't breathe. Clawing at his throat, the judge dropped to the floor._

_* * *_

Prentiss was shaking her head as she slammed a brown case file down onto her desk before propping her elbows up on the wood, and placing her head in her hands. Reid looked over at her, and had been about ready to ask her what was wrong when she suddenly exclaimed,

"What is it with the people drinking and driving already? It seems like more and more of our UnSubs are wanting revenge on people who decide to get drunk and go for a joy ride!"

"Well, a-actually, the percentage of drunken driving fatalities has gone down in the past four years, you know. In Virginia at least, it's gone down about 12%, leaving the total drunken fatalities at 347..." Reid responded, playing with a pencil he'd picked up.

Reid had seen that look before though. Prentiss had just looked up at him and was trying to smile, but he knew that hadn't made her feel any better. Silently cursing himself, Reid turned back to his own case file as Morgan's voice suddenly rang out in the bullpen, calling his attention.

"Hey, Genius! Gimme a nine letter word for 'existence,' will ya?"

And Reid paused in reading the file in front of him, staring blankly at his desk as he thought. A few seconds later, he called back,

"Macrocosm."

J.J. looked up upon coming into the bullpen, and instantly walked over to Reid, her brows furrowed as she asked softly,

"What's he doing?"

Reid paused again, the words on the page before him jumbling slightly as he realized J.J. was talking to him and he looked up into her blue eyes, responding,

"A crossword puzzle."

"Ahh…" J.J. nodded her head slowly, then pushing off his desk and continuing on about her business.

Reid's brows furrowed slightly. Things had been going like this quite often lately. He was either spouting out useless information to people who really didn't want to know what he was telling them, or he was busy doing something else and everyone was asking him questions. It was starting to get annoying, but hey; they were his team, after all. He guessed he should have a little more patience for them; they had so much for him. But he had no sooner gotten back to the report he was supposed to be doing than Hotch seemingly appeared at his desk, startling Reid so much he jumped slightly.

"Hey, settle down," Hotch said, sounding calm as usual, which only made Reid a bit more flustered.

Giving himself a mental shake, Reid once again lifted his gaze off of the case file in front of him and looked at Hotch, stuttering out a,

"Wh-what did you need?"

It was only then that Spencer Reid noticed the case file in Hotch's hand as Hotch nodded his head toward the round-table room.

"We have a case."

* * *

"Frankly, I don't see a connection between these two." Morgan said, plopping the file folder back down on the table and looking at J.J..

"I have to agree with Morgan on this one," Prentiss said softly, looking at the blonde as well. "There's only two of them, and they're nothing alike in their victimology. Why would they be pulling us in on this one?"

J.J. had just opened her mouth to answer that, when Hotch spoke up, his eyes harder than ever.

"Because, the same note was found at both of the crime scenes. I think there may be different things we're missing here that would add up to an M.O.."

Hotch then slid a small note encased in a plastic bag onto the table, and Gideon was the first one to reach out, squinting through his reading glasses as he said aloud,

"Do not try to catch me; you won't. Do not try to stop me; you can't. Do not try to save them; you shouldn't. What has become of them, and what will become of them, is what they deserve. They will repent for their wrongs."

Hotch looked around at the agents at the table, saying shortly,

"Let's start with this. What can you gather from the note?"

"There's more killings to come. It says, 'and what will become of them.'" J.J. offered.

"The UnSub feels wronged in some way by these people. It's a hate crime or a vendetta of some sort." Prentiss spoke up as well.

"This UnSub is also trying to distance himself from the crimes…" Reid said softly, his brows furrowing. "He says, 'They will repent for their wrongs', and, 'It is what they deserve.' And also, the first two lines, the words 'won't' and 'can't' symbolize concrete structures, unbreakable, infallible, the UnSub believes himself unable to be foiled. But when the note comes to 'Do not try to save them; you _shouldn't_,' it seems like this UnSub already knows that people are going to be trying to save the people he wants to kill. Like he's stressing the fact that we should stay out of his way…"

And then Gideon spoke up, silencing the room.

"This UnSub is female."

"How do you gather that?" Hotch asked, watching Gideon closely, but Gideon shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"No man would worry about who was trying to save his victims; nor would he worry about trying to scare them off or warn them not to get involved. This woman is set in what she's going to do, and she's not going to stop killing until she's done. I'd bet she's got a list of people in her head, and as she kills, she's just ticking off names."

Gideon lapsed into silence, giving everyone a few moments to think that over before Hotch finally stood up, dragging everyone's eyes toward him as he said shortly,

"Wheels up in twenty," and moved over to the already open door, exiting the room.

Then they sat in silence again before Gideon got up and exited the room as well, and slowly but surely agents kept filing out of the room until only Reid and Morgan were left. Morgan had something on the desk and seemed to be concentrating really hard on it, a pen held in his hand that he'd tap against the table every so often. Shaking his head, Reid finally decided that he needed to get everything ready to go and stood up, drawing Morgan's attention. And Reid wasn't completely surprised when Morgan's voice stopped him, saying quickly,

"Hey, man, before you go. Gimme an eight letter word for 'unenlightened.'"

Sighing slightly, Reid blinked, searching through his brain for the answer. It, of course, wasn't all that hard, and a few seconds later, Reid glanced at Morgan as he said,

"Ignorant."

* * *

_"Don't forget that I cannot see myself -- that my role is limited to being the one who looks in the mirror." - Jacques Rigaut_

* * *

A/N : Alright, here's a new story, just like I've promised. Please review and tell me if you think it'll be alright or not, and remember, if you have any ideas, challenges, requests, anything; I'm game. Just send me a shout out or something and I'll get back to you as soon as possible with whatever it is you might throw my way. ^_^ Thanks again for reading another one of my stories, and I hope to update soon.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

"He who does not punish evil, commands it to be done." - Leonardo Davinci

* * *

They had been on the jet simply twenty minutes before J.J. came back from the fax machine, and handed everyone the latest pictures of the lawyer.

"Jesse Rowlang, 47 years, Caucasian, worked as a lawyer for a big law firm that took on various cases ranging from divorces to medical law suits and everything in between. He was found four days ago in his car, a single gunshot wound to the head. No evidence was left at the scene, save for the note, of course." J.J. said, then dropping another picture of a body splayed out on a carpeted floor.

"This was Judge Anderson Carlos, age 53, Caucasian. Oversaw, once again, many cases ranging from anything and everything. He was found by his housemaid after suffering from a large dose of Sarin. He was dead within minutes of her hearing him collapse."

"So an interview with the housemaid then. Who's she?" Morgan asked, laying aside the file and looking at J.J., but it was Hotch that spoke this time.

"Her name's Meryl Landman. She worked in the Judge's house for eight hours, then went home to a small, one room apartment that she shared with a boy-friend. However, said boy-friend was recently killed in a driving accident."

"Let me guess. The guy was drunk." Prentiss suddenly said, her voice flat, and Hotch replied, somewhat startled,

"No, actually. Regardless, the law-suit against the driver was dismissed."

"That gives her motive; who presided over the case?" Gideon asked, and J.J. was the one to answer this time.

"We don't know that yet; Garcia's still looking into it."

"Still. I think it'd be a good idea to look into Merryl. She seems like a prime suspect right now." Morgan said, sounding bored, but J.J. shook her head, replying,

"That'd be great, if not for one tinsy, tiny little problem."

"What's that?" Prentiss asked, her curiosity peeked.

"She's locked herself in her apartment, supposedly grief-stricken about not being able to save the judge." Hotch said, his tone dark.

Reid continued to take the rest of the information in and sorting it out in his mind as the other agents on the plane discussed other possible suspects and the families and friends of the victims. It seemed like they had a long case ahead of them…

* * *

"Agent Gideon, so nice to see you again!" a large, burly man greeted Gideon with a warm smile, offering his hand.

Gideon took the hand and shook it, saying fondly,

"Deputy Richardson, it's been too long. This is my team, SSA Aaron Hotchner, Agents Jennifer Jareau, Derek Morgan and Emily Prentiss, and Dr. Spencer Reid."

Deputy Richardson nodded with a smile, then stepping back and saying,

"I'm so glad to have you all here, and anything we can do to help your investigation, I promise you, we'd be happy to help."

"Glad to hear that, Deputy. Is there… somewhere we can set up?" J.J. asked kindly, and the Deputy nodded again.

"Yes, there's a spot in the back we have cleared out for you. It's not that big, but we hope it's not too small, either."

"It'll be fine. Thanks," Hotch said, and then the team was moving past the Deputy.

Unfortunately for Reid, his reputation, -thanks to Gideon- had proceeded him all the way to Clarksville, Tennessee, and Deputy Richardson stopped him in his tracks with a,

"Wait, hold up, really quickly boy, Gideon said your name was Dr. Spencer Reid?"

Blowing a bit of his breath out his nose quickly, Reid turned around and nodded to the older man, his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he wondered what the Deputy wanted from him.

"So you're the genius, right?"

Reid gave another nod.

"So you basically… know everything there is to know about… knowing?"

By now, Reid had started to attract attention from every other officer on the floor, and felt like just shrinking into nothing even as he shook his head, squeaking out a small,

"N-not really."

But his answer had gone un-heeded by the rest of the officers, and Reid suddenly found himself bombarded by random questions. Turning around and craning his neck slightly, Reid looked for his teammates, but he soon found that they would be no help; Hotch even was watching the commotion with a small smile. He was actually enjoying this…!

The voices around him soon became to loud to shut out, even though their spoken volume hadn't increased, really, and Reid caught one question in particular.

"Do you know who the Chinese Goddess of mercy is…?"

Blinking, Reid opened his mouth when he saw another man hit the one who had just spoken in the back of the head, saying,

"You really think a kid is gonna know all this stuff? How stupid are you?"

Reid's brows furrowed further as he said kind of softly, though he was sure everyone could hear,

"Actually… I do know that. The Chinese Goddess of Mercy calls herself Kuan Yin. But did you know that even though she was regarded by the Chinese as the goddess of mercy, she was originally male until the early part of the 12th century and has evolved since that time from her prototype, Avalokiteshvara, "the merciful lord of utter enlightment," an Indian bodhisattva who chose to remain on earth to bring relief to the suffering rather than enjoy for himself the ecstasies of Nirvana…"

Reid finished his small speech just to find that every single one of the officers crowded around him had gone silent, and was staring at him as if he himself had just transformed into a goddess. Making a strange face at the thought, Reid quickly turned and broke through the throng of people, moving quickly over to where Morgan and Hotch still stood. Though, he didn't stop where they were; instead, he kept moving to where he knew the others would be, trying and failing to ignore Hotch's smirk and Morgan's chuckle. It was the last straw, however, when Morgan teased,

"Making a bunch of new friends, aren't you, Reid?"

Reid shook his head, tempted beyond belief to throw his arms in the air in a show of frustration, even as he muttered,

"Shut up…"

But his comment was met with only chuckles from behind him as Reid came to and opened the door to the BAU's makeshift office, and was met with a grim look from Gideon, which instantly sobered the three.

"They've found another body, and another note."

* * *

"Things are not always what they seem; the first appearance deceives many; the intelligence of a few perceives what has been carefully hidden." - Phaedrus

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

"Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth." - Oscar Wilde

* * *

Later on that day, Reid was riding silently in the back seat of an unmarked car with a Deputy Turner as their guide. Accompanying Reid, Hotch was sitting in the front seat of the vehicle, making Reid feel strangely like a little kid. But not in a good way. Staring out the window and watching the trees and the road flash by, his scowl deepened. Would no one in this bureau learn that he wasn't a kid anymore? Of course the rational part of his brain told him that there simply wasn't enough room in the front for him, and the very fact that he was getting upset because of that fact was childish. But then again, rationality rarely overcame strong emotions, as Reid also knew.

They were on their way to Merryl's apartment, Gideon and Prentiss were on their way to the courthouse where Judge Carlos took his cases to look for records of different cases, and Morgan and J.J. were still at the police station, setting up a press conference and a tip line for any witnesses there might have been for the murders. With a small yawn, Reid wondered absentmindedly if this Merryl had a coffee machine, just seconds before the car turned into a parking lot and stopped. Deputy Turner turned around and said with a heavy southern drawl to the two agents,

"Here's where ya'll get off. I'll be in the parkin' lot once yer ready to saddle up 'nd hit the road again."

With a nod and a "Thank you," Hotch exited the car, and so Reid did the same, shoving his hands into his pockets instantly as soon as he shut the car door and watched the Deputy start looking for a parking place. Then Hotch turned around and motioned for Reid to follow him as he then started toward apartment 28B.

As if Reid didn't already know where Hotch was going or when to start moving. Again, he was treating him like a child…! While Reid's mind was at war with itself, half his mind screaming in frustration at being treated like a child, the other half fighting a losing battle of logic, both of the agents came all too quickly to the apartment door marked 28B. Hotch raised his hand, balled it into a fist, and rapped on the door, then backed up slightly so the woman inside would be able to see him clearly from the peep-hole fixed in the center of the wood.

It took a few minutes before the door finally opened, but even then it didn't open all the way. Hotch noticed that there was a chain running from either side of the small crack, and a woman's head popped around the corner, stuttering out a soft,

"H-hello…? Wh-who's there…?"

Hotch then flipped open his credentials, saying softly to the woman, so as to not scare her,

"FBI, ma'am. Do you think we could come in? We have a few questions for you."

And trying his hardest not to narrow his eyes, Reid noticed how even though he, too, was holding up credentials, was being left behind. Sure, maybe not in a physical sense, but he could see the way Hotch was shielding Reid's body halfway with his own, as if the woman might have a gun on her, and the way Hotch was leaning forward as he spoke, commanding attention to himself. Reid was nothing to him; to anyone, for that matter.

And with a quick shake of his head that was barely seen by either of them, Reid tried to control his thoughts. Hotch didn't mean anything by it; it was natural for a leader of an FBI team to take charge of a situation, and protect his own in potentially dangerous situations.

But while Reid was busy arguing with himself, he completely missed the fact that Hotch was gaining the housemaid's trust until the door shut, and opened two seconds later, swinging wide to reveal a small, brown haired woman watching them with red-rimmed, wild green eyes. She was wearing a light purple tee-shirt and black slacks with nothing on her feet. And then Hotch and Reid stepped through the door, Reid's brain -finally- going into full investigation mode.

There were a few magazines here and there, but they were the kind that were really expensive; and judging from the rest of the house, what was in the magazines symbolized what she wished she could have. The carpet was a light brown; it wouldn't show that much dirt if she had to skip her own house cleaning every few days. There was a lone bookshelf filled with books on law firms and legal practices, and Reid wondered if she wasn't aspiring to become a lawyer herself or something. It was the pictures on top of the bookshelf, however, that caught his attention the most. They were in full view of the light brown couch on the opposite side of the room, and from the covers and books and the TV remote on the couch, Reid figured she spent most of the last few days there.

Turning back to the pictures, Reid looked a little closer at them. There were pictures of little boys and a girl, all with dirty blonde hair and green eyes, a man with dark brown hair and blue eyes, and a teenaged girl with dark brown hair and green eyes. But none of the people in the pictures looked like Merryl. Turning back to Hotch, Reid caught the last of his conversation with her.

"And you have no clue who might want to hurt the Judge…?"

"None… none at all, he was a good man I tell you…! He never willingly did harm to anyone…"

"Willingly…?" Reid questioned.

It took Merryl a few moments of looking at the ground before saying in a very small voice,

"He… always made rulings on what he thought was right. And most of the times, I'd agree, even though it wasn't my opinion to have. But sometimes… well, he'd make judgments without enough information and end up ruling for someone bad instead. It never happened that often but… he was a good man… he never meant any harm by it."

"Was your case one of those times that he ruled for someone bad, Merryl…?" Hotch asked softly, trying to make eye contact with her.

Her head snapped up, a look of horror on her face as she stared into Hotch's eyes, saying a bit louder than before,

"You think I had something to do with his death? I had to stand there and watch him die! I had to stand by, waiting for those stupid paramedics to come screaming to the house after it was too late! I had to watch those eyes that I'd worked for and known for so long glaze over and lose their life! You really think I'd be able to kill him like that?!?"

There were tears filling her eyes, and it was making both Reid and Hotch doubt that they'd found their UnSub. So instead, Hotch shook his head and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small paper card and handing it to Merryl, who slowly reached out after a few seconds to take it from him.

"If you have any more information for us, if you remember anything or anyone who might have had a grudge against him, don't hesitate to call that number. You'll be patched through to my cell."

A small nod from Merryl, and Hotch glanced back at Reid, nodding toward the door.

"We're done here, Reid. Let's go."

And Reid was fighting to narrow his eyes again. Every single time…!

* * *

Once again, Reid was sitting in the back seat, looking out the window with a sullen look on his face, fighting an inner battle. Rationally, -always rationally- Reid knew that nothing was different these past few weeks. No one was acting any different to him than they always did; but for some reason that was still unknown to him at this time, his mind was almost seeking these things out, and noticing with full force everything that his teammates did that made him seem small and childish compared to them.

Reid also knew he had to focus, otherwise he'd be no more help than a real child. Suddenly, Hotch's voice rang out in the vehicle, startling Reid out of his thoughts.

"Reid, we're going to need that head of yours again. Gideon and Prentiss found several case files that went through all three victims, and they're having a hard time going through them by themselves. We're heading over there right now."

Mumbling a,

"Yeah, alright," Reid kept his gaze out the window.

He had to do something to stop this feeling before it disrupted his work, and his friendships with his teammates.

* * *

"The irrationality of a thing is not an argument of its existence, rather, a condition of it." - Friedrich Nietzsche

* * *

A/N : Sorry about the wait, but I've had lots of different things to do. Also, I'm sorry if this is a little short and all, but I was having problems concentrating. I'll try to make the next few chapters a bit more interesting, so please continue to stick with me. Thanks for reading another chapter. - Lyon


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

"There is no formula for success except perhaps an unconditional acceptance of life and what it brings."

- Arthur Rubinstein

* * *

Reid yawned, and laid down the case file of a middle-aged male who's case had run through Judge Carlos. But the lawyers had been different, just like every other case he'd looked at. None had the exact components. It was getting so hopeless, and the stack in front of him was getting smaller and smaller as time went by. It was two o'clock in the morning the last time Reid had checked his watch, and that had been who knows how long ago. His coffee, still sitting half full in the cup in front of him on the table was most likely cold by now, and Reid's eyes barely wanted to stay open anymore. The rest of the team had already gone to the hotel to get some rest and sleep, but of course, like always, the genius was expected to stay and finish the job, what with his huge head and all.

Laying his elbows on the table, Reid ran his hands through his hair and let his head hang, holding it up with just his hands and closed his eyes, just for a little bit, trying to get himself to focus again. He had to focus on the case, not the fact that he was here, trying to focus on the case while the rest of the team was curled up, nice and snug in hotel beds. If it wasn't for this damn mind of his, he wouldn't still be here, working this case so late at night, he thought madly, but instantly regretted even that small outburst, even if he hadn't done anything. No one had forced him to stay here; no one had told him to continue working on the case. In fact, J.J. had even asked if he was coming with them when she said they were leaving to get some much needed shut-eye.

It wasn't their fault he was here, it was his own, and it was because he knew that without his brain, his team wouldn't have half the answers they had, and because he wanted to prove himself worthy of his teammates trust. And he wouldn't be able to do that, sitting here throwing a tantrum like the child he'd been thinking they thought he was.

In fact, Reid thought that they couldn't possibly think of him as a child since they continuously said they think he's amazingly mature for his own age, and that a profiler is able to understand what a person thinks before they think it and that Reid thought they thought that he thinks that they-

Now his head hurt.

* * *

Hotch came into the make-shift conference room, and was surprised to find Reid, slumped over the table with several files open on the table, his arms cushioned under his head and his eyes -with abnormally dark-circles under them, even for him- closed, his mouth gaping open just slightly. His hair was a tangled mess, worse than it usually was, and fell into his face in several places. One strand was in front of his mouth, and would move out and in as Reid would draw slow, even breaths as he slept deeply. To Hotch, the man looked like he could use some rest.

Hotch felt a little bad about using him like he had yesterday, what to look through the cases faster. Hotch knew how fast Reid could read and well, to put it simply he had taken advantage of the young genius. Moving quietly around the table, Hotch looked over the files that were open on the table in front of the sleeping man, only to find that the criteria in the files matched the ones they were looking for, and there was three of them. Two male and one female, the female being the housemaid they'd already interviewed. So that gave them two suspects. Glancing quickly at Reid, Hotch picked up the file cases and quietly closed them, placing them under his arm and walking out as quietly as he'd come in.

The man deserved a few more hours of sleep after a session like last night.

* * *

Slowly, Reid awoke with a small, nagging sensation in his brain. There was something he was going to do before he fell asleep… Then it hit him. He was going to cross-reference the possible UnSubs with those who purchased any guns or over the counter medicines that had been proven to be active components in home-made poisons and such. Looking up tiredly, Reid reached for the closest case file, the one with the large, muscular male who'd been to see the Judge on the pretence of gaining back a stolen vehicle. Since the man, James Hankery, had already been convicted and served time for auto-theft himself, the judge didn't deem to look that far into the case and dismissed it. To Reid, James sure seemed like a guy to hold a grudge.

But as Reid's hand moved over the table, something caught his attention, even through his still sleep-foggy mind. Where were the files? Sitting up a bit straighter, then standing up and leaning over the small table, Reid searched through all the files that were scattered in disarray on the wood. But the three files he'd lain out the night before were gone without a trace. Quickly turning around and reaching into his large brown bag, Reid pulled out and flipped open his cell, dialing the number he needed as fast as his fingers would let him.

"Talk to me, pussycat."

And then Reid was still, blinking and staring off into space.

"Did you just call me pussycat?"

"Did I stutter, sweet-heart?"

"Don't ever do that again."

"Sure, sure. What'cha need?"

Shaking his head, Reid swallowed and looked back at the table.

"I was working on those case files for Prentiss and Gideon last night, and I fell asleep before I could get you to check a few things, but when I woke up, the files were gone, and I don't know where they went. I wanted to know if you had any clue about anything, or if I'm just going crazy here."

"No, you're not going crazy, Reid, though in that large mind of yours, I know I would." A small chuckle from her end of the line didn't help Reid's thought process from these past few days. "No, Hotch came in and found you sleeping, and decided you needed some time off for a while, so he took the case, and Morgan and Gideon are headed to Wallace's house, and Hotch and Prentiss are headed toward James' house. J.J.'s still in the police station, waiting on you to wake up and preparing herself for the media that's basically slammed the town. Turns out they don't get much by the way of 'interesting news' over there."

Reid couldn't answer for a few seconds, first his throat was closed up for the fact that they could be walking right into a potentially dangerous situation without prior knowledge of it, and then it was closed up because of his anger. His overwhelmingly, heated, pulsing, clawing anger that seemed to come out of no where. They put him on a case. They give him piles upon piles of information, and say, here. Sort through all this. And so he does. He comes up with what could very well be the best leads they could have ever found in a third, -a THIRD- of the time it would have taken them to find it! And then, and THEN! They just rush off without even bothering to wake him up!

They don't include him once he's outlived his worth, Reid thought, steadying himself against the table under the force of the sudden anger. They let him work his damn ass off, and then they just fling him aside like it was none of his business to begin with. And then the overwhelming urge to pick something up and throw it, just to see it crash into something else, to splinter and break like he felt his mind and body and entire world was doing just this moment came over him, and all he could see was the porcelain coffee cup that had been sitting on the table since last night.

His hand was snapped back to his side when the voice in his ear spoke again, the normally cheerful voice worried and anxious at the same time.

"Reid? You still there? Are you alright, hun?"

And just as quickly as it had come, the moment of sudden anger was gone, and Reid slumped against the table, stuttering out a,

"Y-yeah, I-I'm fine, G-Garcia, I just n-needed to get hold of the team." Shaking his head, he forced himself to focus. "I wasn't quite finished with those files yet. I wanted to have you scan them through and cross-reference them with recent purchases made to guns, or any over-the-counter medicines that have been proven to be active components in home-made poisons, do you think you could do that?"

"Oh, baby, if I didn't think I could do that, why would I be here now…?"

* * *

Hotch and Prentiss stepped out of the SUV, turning their attention to the small, mobile home in which James Hankery resided. Hotch moved up to the door, with Prentiss right behind him, and lightly rapped on the door, waiting for a few seconds before the door was recklessly thrown open, a large and rather unkempt man standing in the middle of the doorway.

"Yeah? What'chu want…?"

"Mister James Hankery, FBI. We'd like to ask you a few questions, may we come in?" Hotch said, flashing his credentials.

But something was amiss here and both Hotch and Prentiss noticed it right away. There was something about this man; he was on edge instead of careless still. So when he suddenly turned tail and ran through the mobile, Hotch and Prentiss gave chase, only to encounter bullets flying their way.

* * *

"Every normal man must be tempted at times to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin to slit throats."

- H.L. Mencken

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N : Alright, I'm getting really tired of searching for the quotes so you'll have to deal with one to none for each story now, alright? Sorry about it, but yeah. I'm lazy. Lol. Thanks for the great reviews and here's another chapter. Also, sorry if this is a bit short as well, but I seem to have a lot more to do recently, and I'm having a hard time concentrating._

_And yes, I'll be merciful and start with Prentiss and Hotch for all you worriers out there._

His heart was pounding in his ears, second only to the gunshots ringing out around the both of them. Hotch had ducked behind a couch, and had glanced behind him to make sure Prentiss was alright only to see she'd over turned a large, thick table and was using it as a shield. Smart girl. Another bullet whistled over his head and Hotch turned his attention back to the threat at hand. Nothing in the report had mentioned James being licensed to carry a fire arm, or even having one for that matter. Taking a small breath and steeling his nerves, Hotch leaped up from his crouching position, his head poking over the couch, his eyes instantly seeking out his target.

James was standing behind a doorway, his gun aimed between Prentiss and Hotch, and when James saw Hotch over the rim of the couch, a bullet zoomed over his head, barely missing as Hotch ducked back behind the couch. Another few bullets flashed overhead before Hotch sprung up again, this time his gun over the top of the couch and aimed perfectly. Squeezing the trigger, Hotch's bullet flew right into his mark; James' right hand. With a yelp, the large man let go of the gun, the metal object hitting the floor loudly. And as Prentiss and Hotch sprung up from their position to give chase again, James turned tail and started running again.

* * *

"Oh god…"

"What? What is it Garcia, what did you find?" Reid said, his tone concerned.

"J-James Hankery purchased a two types of guns in the last week; a .22 rimfire, semi-automatic target pistol, and an M249 sub-machine gun. Wallace Tanner bought several things from a wal-mart that I can trace back and find as active ingredients for Sarin…" A pause, then she whispered shakily, "They could be walking into a death trap…!"

Reid could hear her shaking, as even he was shaking, too. Pushing himself off the table then, he spoke in a rush as he practically flung his brown bag over his shoulder and half ran out the door.

"Garcia, I need you to tell me where Wallace is. Hotch can handle a few guns, it's the Sarin I'm afraid of right now."

"R-right, gimme a sec here…"

But Reid had already put the phone on speaker, having reached J.J., who was staring at him as if he'd suddenly grown a second head. Taking a few seconds to try and catch his breath as quickly as he could, he looked up with impossibly large eyes, saying as fast as possible,

"Gideon and Morgan could be in danger; we need to go after them now. Sarin…"

Reid didn't say anymore than that; he didn't have to. Not only did most of the officers around him hear what he had said, but Garcia was suddenly rambling off the location of Wallace's two story home.

* * *

Gideon and Morgan had just gained entrance to Wallace's place, the rather skinny man dressed in bright pinks and light purples stepping back to let them survey the living room without hindrance. In fact, the man before them was decidedly gay, Morgan thought to himself, but continued to speak as if that thought had never crossed his mind.

"We're sorry to come barging in on you like this, but we just want to ask you a few questions. Judge Carlos recently presided over a case of yours, didn't he?"

The man's gaze turned instantly sad as he replied,

"Yes, he did. And though I was very, very angry at the time when he turned down my case, I still felt for the old man when I heard he'd died. Have you caught who did it yet, agent?"

Morgan had just opened his mouth to reply when Gideon said from behind him, his gaze being distracted from the room and turning to Wallace,

"We're looking into it somewhat. Could you tell me a little more about what your case had been about, Mr. Tanner?"

While Wallace nodded and started into a lengthy speech about what lead up to the case, and several details that would put some of Garcia's ramblings to shame, Morgan turned around and dug out the now vibrating cell from his pocket and flipped it open. Placing it to his ear, he answered,

"Morgan."

"Where are you?" came an almost excited reply from a voice that was undeniably Reid.

"We're in Tanner's house now. Why, what's up?"

"Tanner might have enough Sarin in that house to kill three thousand people with the ingredients Garcia traced his credit card back to!"

Morgan stiffened, hesitantly drawing another breath. The air didn't taste any different. Morgan knew from experience Sarin could either be broken down into small particles to be ingested, or it could be formed into a gas and released into the air for massive results. But did Sarin even have a taste to it…? Suddenly flipping the cell closed, Reid's voice trying to quickly relay information that Morgan didn't think was that important right then, Morgan turned swiftly around and took a few large steps toward Wallace. His sudden swing in moods must have scared the smaller man, for he shrunk back even as Morgan's hand shot out and grabbed hold of Wallace's collar, lifting him up off the ground slightly.

"You son-of-a-bitch! Where is it?!"

"Wh-where is what?!" Wallace squeaked out, his voice having gone up a few octaves.

"The Sarin you made! Our tech analyst traced back those credit card purchases you made, and all the ones made in the last week are known as active ingredients in the poison Sarin! So where is it, you bastard?! Have you already set it loose?!"

"I-I-I didn't do it, I s-s-swear! I bought them in return for more money than I paid out…!"

Morgan gave Wallace a hard shake.

"Don't lie to me!"

"I'm not! I sold them for three thousand dollars in cash to this odd woman with a limp and glasses! She came to me last week and said that if I bought those things for her, she'd make it worth my while and she did!"

It was then that Gideon moved to Morgan's side, laying a hand on his shoulder, but Morgan refused to let Tanner go, instead giving him yet another shake.

"What all did she look like?"

"K-Kind of short, s-she walked with a limp, and I remember that she kept saying, 'You'll get what you deserve.' Every time she asked me to do something, I'd get in return 'what I deserved.' Th-that's all I remember! I promise!"

"Did she give you her name, Wallace?" Gideon asked softly, and the young man stuttered out a,

"Y-yeah, said her n-name was Leram…"

Morgan, still breathing lightly just in case, kept his narrowed eyes on the cowering Wallace even as he finally let the man go and watched him back up several steps, putting a lot of distance between them. In the distance, Morgan could hear the distant cry of sirens.

* * *

"Remember that all through history, there have been tyrants and murderers, and for a time, they seem invincible. But in the end, they always fall. Always."

- Mahatma Ghandi

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

"Do you know where she came from?" Gideon asked, and received a stiff shaking of Wallace's head. "How she got hold of you?" Another shake. "Where she is now?"

At the third shake of his head, Morgan spoke up, trying to keep his voice even though his heart was racing in his chest at the thought of breathing in Sarin. After everything was said and done, both he and Gideon would need testing done to make sure there was none in their systems…

"You made a deal with this woman and you know nothing about what she looks like or where she came from or went. This sounds like a bunch of bullshit. Let me tell you something, buddy. I don't like to be fed bullshit. Either step up and be a man for once in your pathetic life and tell me you have Sarin stashed somewhere around here, or you tell us what you're obviously hiding about this so-called 'woman.' And do it quickly, before I change my mind about laying some serious hurt on you."

Gideon heard sirens coming closer still to the two level house, and wondered what they would do when they got there, even as he watched Wallace's reaction to Morgan's taunt. Instead of looking offended, like the UnSub would have, Wallace continued to shrink backward into the wall, watching the larger man with wide eyes as he continued to shake his head.

"I'm not hiding anything…! I swear it, please, you have to believe me!"

Gideon knew it shouldn't, but the situation now amused him. There were several cop cars screeching to a stop in the front yard, running over the well kept grass nurtured by an over loving man with no partner, no real life to speak of, and money problems. Sure, he might have bought the ingredients for Sarin, but after taking a small look at the kitchen through the half wall separating the kitchen from the living room, Gideon highly doubted the man even knew how to cook pancakes, let alone make a lethal poison from scratch. After all, the kitchen was in pristine shape; pots and spoons hanging on the wall, clean counters, an oven and stove top looking ready to fire up at any second, a clean sink and an even cleaner dishwasher.

Gideon's best bet was this guy ate at a lot of restaurants

So what would the deputies and officer's do now? Stand behind their cars with their side arms pointed over the roofs of their vehicles and yell… what? They couldn't tell them to come out of the house with their hands over their heads; the place was supposedly contaminated. And no one had even thought to shut the front door. Shaking his head, a small smirk playing on his lips despite his efforts to keep his face expressionless, Gideon thought with grim amusement that if they had actually been dealing with a real case of Sarin, the entire neighborhood would need to be detoxified by now.

What a sticky situation that could have been…

* * *

Prentiss followed Hotch's lead as he moved stealthily through the mobile home, and dimly she noticed how dirty he kept the place. There were playboys stashed everywhere, empty soda cans thrown wherever, dirt and mud here and there, and… was that a piece of spoiling pizza?? Fighting back a shiver, Prentiss continued to move forward when she heard James' voice ring out around them, and what he said caused her to duck behind a doorway, out of his line of fire.

"I'm not afraid to kill you fuckers!" he yelled loudly.

Hotch continued to keep his gun leveled at James's head, however, staring down the barrel of what looked to be a sub-machine gun with an expressionless face.

"You really don't want to do that, James…" Hotch said slowly and clearly, but stopped himself before he could step back as James waved the gun around threateningly, his finger never leaving the trigger.

"You're wrong about that, you damn flatfoot. You got one shot to take me out. You miss, and I'm going down shooting the crap out of you and your lady friend!"

Hearing movement behind him, he slowly shifted to the side, drawing James' attention as Hotch said,

"I'm not a flatfoot, and I'm not going to miss. Would you like to know why?"

A scowl appeared on James' lips as his gun followed Hotch's movements.

"Why?"

"Because I'm not going to shoot."

"Then you're an idiot." James said, then raising the scope of the sub to his eye and pointing it directly at Hotch's head, but before his finger could pull the trigger, the report of a gun sounded clearly in the small den like room, and James' lifeless body hit the floor, his head bleeding.

Looking behind him while he holstered his gun, Hotch moved quickly to James' body, kicked away the machine gun, then hurried to Prentiss' side, crouching down and asking,

"You alright?"

"Yeah," came the breathy response. "A bit shaken up, but I'm fine."

"Good. Get Garcia on the phone then, tell her what happened. There was a room that caught my attention before that I want to check out before we get out of here."

* * *

"Man, that just wasn't right." Morgan shook his head, standing outside in a rain of red and blue lights made brighter due to the quickly setting sun as he looked at Reid, who was standing before him.

"What?"

Reid could feel his mouth hanging open as he listened to Morgan lecture, yes _lecture_ him about _false alarms_. And he'd actually had the audacity to look pissed off because Reid had been genuinely worried about him?

"You heard me, Reid. You had me thinking I was about to die back there."

"Th-that was a definite possibility, Morgan!" Reid stuttered, feeling his voice go up an octave but unable to help it. "How was I supposed to know he turned around and sold it again when there was no record of it that Garcia could find?"

Morgan had just opened his mouth once more, no doubt to belittle Reid's worry and quick reaction to that very same worry, when Gideon's voice rang from across the commotion in the yard.

"Quit bickering you two, we're heading back to the police station. Prentiss just called Garcia; they think they might have a lead."

Morgan shook his head again and walked away with out another word, but Reid was still standing in the same spot, his mouth still hanging open as he watched Morgan walk away. Bickering? Why does everyone always treat him like an over anxious child?

* * *

Reid stayed in the back of the room, watching and listening silently as the rest of the team discussed their possible lead without him. In fact, they'd been discussing it for about thirty minutes now, comparing information from Wallace's place and James', as well as Merryl's, and hadn't even looked for Reid once. It was like he didn't exist when he wasn't spouting off random information. Listening in a bit more carefully, Reid caught the end of their conversation.

"So why out of a trailer that was as dirty as a pig sty was there just one room that was clean? It doesn't make that much sense…" Prentiss said, but Gideon spoke up where she left off.

"Because there was someone else staying there in that room with him. Get a forensics team out to the trailer and figure out if there was any evidence left that will tell us who exactly stayed in that room."

"We should all get a good night's sleep, everyone. We'll come back in the morning, go over whatever the forensics team finds then."

And then file cases and papers were picked up, and the team was shuffling around, gathering their stuff up and starting to walk out of the room. Reid, however, continued to sit in his chair, his legs dragged up to his chest as he glared at the table. What did he have to do to prove to these guys that he wasn't a kid…? That he wasn't just a human dictionary… or encyclopedia… or computer. Reid grimaced at the train of his thoughts. Then Reid almost jumped out of his seat as Hotch's voice sounded in the now empty room.

"Reid? Go get some sleep."

Looking up, Reid nodded, and watched as Hotch then walked out of the room, leaving the door open. He then stood up, brushing himself off, his gaze narrowing once more. He'd be leaving, but not to get some sleep. Picking up his brown bag and slinging it over his shoulder, Reid shook his head and started out the door, a look of determination plastered on his face.

They had to learn he wasn't a kid anymore, and he could do things by himself. He didn't need any help, and he didn't need to be chastised for worry that was perfectly reasonable.

They had to learn.

Even if it killed him.

Reid suddenly stopped in his tracks, his breathing hitched slightly. Had he just thought that?

* * *

"One need not be a chamber to be haunted, one need not to be a house. The brain has corridors surpassing material place."

- Emily Dickinson

* * *

_A/N : Alright, there's another chapter for all of you who have so wonderfully read, reviewed, added to favorites and alerts, and just plain came across this story on your free time. Reviews are still greatly appreciated if you could, and for you loyal fans so eager for Reid-Angst, let it be known that we're back to mostly Reid's point of view from this chapter on, I believe. Anyway, thanks again for reading, and yes, for all those who believe Reid is a bit off character, I'll explain later on what's going on. Sorry there's no explanation before that point, but I haven't found a way to fit it in yet. Have a good day, and I'll update as soon as I can._

_- Lyon_


	7. Chapter 7

Reid sat in the front drivers seat of the black SUV that was still left in the police station's parking lot, trying to decide exactly what to do next. For right now, he had a potentially clear head, and was able to think straight compared to what he'd been thinking like these past few days. Placing his hands on the steering wheel just to have something to grip onto, Reid allowed himself to think through the various emotions that had been plaguing him as of late. Frustration at being treated like a kid, anger stemming from that frustration, and he'd also been feeling as if he had something to prove to the team, who he knew very well appreciated him already. It was all in his mind, he was just being paranoid.

His head then snapping up, his eyes widened to the point that he thought they might pop out of his sockets. Paranoid. That was the answer, and he didn't like it one bit. His body starting to shake slightly, he remembered back to the extensive research he'd done on schizophrenia. Unfortunately for him, paranoia was a starting sign that schizophrenia was starting to show through in the mind. Next he'd be having hallucinations and…

No. He couldn't let it get that far. Not only did the team need him, but he needed his clear head. If not for that, what would he have left in the world…? There had to be someway he could make this work, and not lose all he's done in the past twenty five and a half years. Taking a deep breath, Reid promised himself he'd make an appointment with someone back in Quantico to see what kinds of medication for the early signs of schizophrenia was available to him, but for now… for now he had to figure out this case, and he had a pretty good idea how to do so. After all, it wasn't like his ears were going as well…

Starting up the SUV and pulling out of the parking place, Reid then drove off, his eidetic memory letting him recall every twist and turn he needed to take to get himself to where he needed to go.

* * *

Judge Anderson Carlos presided over several cases.

67% of those cases were prosecuted by Jesse Rowlang.

24% of those same cases were defended by a certain Timothy Kurchner, the last person to be found dead by the BAU.

9% of all those cases were dismissed, and 2% of those dismissals, the plaintiff was a woman. And one of those women was Merryl Landman.

Her case had been about two things. On the surface, she'd taken the man who had driven into her boy-friends car to court and lost the case, and her lover at the same time. But if you dug deep enough, as Reid had asked Garcia to do, you found that Merryl also made a second plea just before they left the court room. The boy-friend had been taking care of his siblings - said siblings had been in the photos that Reid had taken notice of in her living room before. But Judge Carlos had dismissed that plea as well, instead handing the kids back over to the mother, who ended up doing a homicide-suicide while the ex husband was away.

That had to be the stressor.

Having had Garcia looking through the records, Reid also asked her to look for prior knowledge of chemicals and shooting experience. She had both. She fit the criteria, she had motive, and she was almost spot on with the short profile they'd constructed.

And Garcia even threw in the fact she'd had acting lessons and had come out at the top of the class.

"So… why do you need this information so late, sugar lips?" Garcia had said after Reid thanked her and had been about ready to hang up.

Thinking over his answer quickly, Reid slowly replied,

"Hotch asked me about it, and I thought it'd be easier to ask you, Garcia."

He was rewarded with an airy chuckle and a,

"Well of course it would be easier, I'm the mistress of everything knowledgeable! So you go ahead and tell Hotch I said catch that sick puppy for me, and get some sleep afterward, alright baby?"

Resisting the urge to tell her to never call him anything but Reid again, he said "alright" and hung up, sighing softly. He folded up the cell and placed it back in his pocket before getting out of the SUV. But the building in front of him wasn't Merryl's apartment; it was a different apartment completely, and he'd just seen a woman wearing black gloves exit a small, dark green sedan and enter said apartment. Reid's hand went down to his side arm to make sure it was still on his hip, then continued through the same door the woman had just moments before.

* * *

Garcia continued to sit in her office, still beaming with pride at Reid's compliment, but sadly the happy haze was not to last up to the cold doubt of logic. If Hotch had asked and Reid hadn't had an answer, why wouldn't Hotch call her himself? Why wasn't she put on speaker like always? And why was it so damn late Reid chose to call? Her brows furrowing, Garcia admitted that something didn't add up. Reaching over to the phone on her desk, she used her fluffy troll head pen to dial Hotch's number.

* * *

Dimly, Hotch realized that his cell was ringing. Reaching out with his hand to the bedside stand that his cell and gun were laying on, Hotch flipped it open and said groggily into the receiver,

"Hotchner…"

"Hotch? You sound like you were sleeping…" Garcia's voice sounded in his ear and he shook his head, sitting up slightly, the covers falling off his still fully clothed body.

"Yeah, I was. Did you find anything new about the case?"

"Y-yes, actually…" Garcia said, her voice sounding strange, which woke Hotch up even more.

And Hotch listened with growing horror to the tech-analyst as she recounted the call Reid had made just moments ago. When she finished what she was saying, Hotch took a small breath to calm his voice, then said slowly and precisely,

"Triangulate his cell and call me back with his location."

And Hotch was up and moving, hell bent on going after Reid before something bad could happen.

* * *

"Oh god no, please, no!"

Reid heard the strange male voice cry out, and grimaced to himself as he held his gun a bit in front of him, pointed at the ground, his finger on the trigger. He'd checked the other doors before following Merryl into Scott Karrel's apartment, only to find that Merryl had chosen a night where no one but her target was home; probably so no one would hear him screaming and begging for his life like he was now. Coming up to the slightly open door, and took out a small recording device from inside his bag. If Merryl was as good as an actor Garcia proclaimed her to be, and as good as he remembered her to be, then he'd need something to justify his actions this night. Clicking it on, Reid stood at the door and continued to listen, taking deep, slow, silent breaths.

"Shut up, Scott." he heard Merryl say.

"P-Please, I don't want to die! Not today, I have kids! Think of my kids!"

"Kids, huh? Why should I think of yours when you didn't think of Danny's? Don't you remember, you despicable man? You killed Danny with your fucking car, and let his mother take back his brothers and sisters! Do you know what happened to them? Do you even _care?!_ His mother _killed_ them! They're _dead_ because of _you!_"

"Please…!" the man sounded like he was close to tears now as Reid edged a bit closer, getting ready to jump in at a moments notice; there was no reason in being here if there wasn't something he could do to save Scott.

"No." Merryl continued, and the distinct sound of the safety being released sounded out around the three of them, and Scott started sobbing. "You deserve to die. Just like those other men who wouldn't give a second thought to kids who weren't their own."

Her voice sounded amazingly cold, even to Reid, and he felt a shiver run down his spine. Taking another deep breath, he suddenly burst through the door, fully expecting to have the element of surprise. But before he could even utter the word "FBI," he found himself staring down the barrel of Merryl's gun, her eyes once warm and filled with tears, now cold and calculating.

"Hello agent. Somehow I knew we'd meet again."

* * *

"Between the idea and the reality, between the motion and the act, falls the shadow."

- T.S. Eliot

* * *

_A/N : Alright, just one, maybe two more chapters to go. Keep reading, my loyal fans! And thanks to all you who have reviewed or are planning on reviewing, because you help so much._

_- Lyon_


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

"Between the desire and the spasm, between the potency and the existence, between the essence and the descent, falls the shadow. This is the way the world ends."

- T.S. Eliot

* * *

His body had started to shake uncontrollably since seeing that barrel pointed at him, all sense of confidence having long left him. Reid watched with horror as Merryl continued to stare at him coldly before saying in the same manner as one might talk about the weather,

"Put down the gun."

Reluctant as ever, Reid simply stood where he was, still shaking, and watched as Merryl's eyes narrowed a fraction.

"I've read your files. You're not the best marksman, are you, Dr. Spencer Reid? I, on the other hand, can guarantee that I'll hit my mark. Would you like to take your chance at a game of target practice, agent?"

And looking into her cold eyes, Reid knew that firing a shot wasn't a chance he could safely take. Keeping his left hand raised, he slowly took his right finger off the trigger of his firearm and then crouched down just as slowly, setting the gun on the hardwood floor before standing up again, both hands raised and even with his chest. His heart was still pounding in his chest as the realization he was completely defenseless started to set in, and Merryl said once more, her voice still as cold as ever,

"Kick the gun toward me."

Taking a small breath, Reid bit his lip as he moved his foot forward, scraping it along the floor as he moved his only form of protection out of reach.

"Good. Now step forward and close the door behind you."

Staring at Merryl's expressionless face, Reid slowly did as he was ordered to do, continuously aware of the still sobbing Scott behind her.

* * *

Fighting a yawn, Hotch tried to keep himself within the lines of the road even as he increased the speed, his heart hammering in his chest. The sirens were blaring and blue and red lights were lighting up the night as Hotch, Gideon, Prentiss, Morgan and J.J. literally flew down the road, Morgan's cell phone flipped open and on speaker phone as Garcia rambled off the location of Reid's cell phone.

Imaginations were running wild; hearts were thundering and sweat was dripping.

It was a race against time.

Why was it always a race against time for Reid?!?

* * *

How could five words send such chills up the spine? How could a simple sentence set Reid's body to shaking and shivering worse than he had been as he curled into a tighter ball, sitting in the corner Merryl had directed him to?

"_I'll deal with you later."_

She had confiscated his gun, which now lay on the coffee table beside where Scott laid sprawled out. Scott's arms had been tied with the scarf that had previously been wrapped around Merryl's neck, and bound over his head to the leg of said coffee table. Reid wondered if she'd have even bound him at all if he hadn't leaped up from his position while Merryl had been talking to Reid after he'd closed the door, but he was bound now, and would be almost no help.

Reid's mind was working overtime, trying to figure a way out of the mess he had foolishly gotten himself into. What was up with him lately? But of course, he already knew the answer as he watched with profiler eyes while Merryl bent down, resting the barrel of the gun against Scott's cheek. The way she stroked his cheek with the gun was almost affectionate, but her facial expression was anything but loving, which lead Reid to believe that she was putting on another show. She knew how to press people's buttons and she was utilizing that information.

"You really should have thought twice before you slammed your car into Danny's… shouldn't've you?" Merryl said softly, the gun making slow, torturous strokes along Scott's skin as the tears continued to slide down his cheek.

But the man knew better than to speak. It had startled both Reid and Scott when he had tried to answer her; tried to beg for his life and received a bullet in his leg. In fact, Reid dimly noted, the wound on his calf was still bleeding. Not as much as it had been, but enough to still be deemed life-threatening. Inwardly, Reid cursed whatever had possessed his supposedly smart mind to come here alone without alerting anyone. Reid knew that unfortunately, there was a high probability he wouldn't make it out of this situation alive. Taking a deep breath, Reid knew that he had to at least stall. Find some way to divert her attention for however long was possible…

"C-can I just ask a-a small question, Miss Landman…?" Reid stuttered out, cringing slightly when she turned around again, her cold eyes coming to rest on his own brown eyes.

The gun was lifted and for a second, Reid thought she was going to shoot him like she had Scott. But instead she simply rested the gun against Scott's hip enough that she'd feel him move if he tried to get away, and said softly,

"It depends on what the question is, agent. If it's how long you get to live, I'd say a few more minutes, with the way you're antagonizing me."

Resisting the shiver of fear that came with the threat so calmly uttered, Reid then asked,

"Where's… the Sarin…?"

Merryl's brows furrowed then as she slowly responded,

"So you know about that then."

"Y-yes, actually. It wasn't all that hard to figure out when Wallace told me the name of the person who contacted him. H-he said her name was Leram… Th-that's Merryl… only backward…"

Then a small smirk found it's way onto her lips as she then took the gun away from Scott's hip completely, resting it on her leg while pointing it at Reid, causing his heart to skip a beat, then instantly try to make up for it by pounding a tattoo against his chest. In fact, his heart was racing, beating so loudly in his ears that it was a wonder she couldn't hear it. Of course, scientifically for her to hear his heartbeat without some kind of sound amplifier was just about physically impossible, but did that even matter at this point…?

"I'll tell you a little something agent, but it will come with a price. I'll tell you where my Sarin is… but as soon as I finish telling you, my gun will put a bullet in your head, right then and there. Or…" using the gun to emphasize her point, she moved it from Reid's head to point it at Scott's head. "You can let me finish up with this life wrecker, and live for five, maybe ten minutes more. Of course, don't think for a second I would cheat you out of the information you have so foolishly pursued."

A small chuckle escaped her lips as she then moved the gun back onto her leg, pointing it at Reid.

"Choose, honey. I won't wait all night."

Reid swallowed, knowing in his heart he couldn't let her kill Scott.

* * *

"How close are you?" Hotch asked anxiously to Deputy Richardson, who had called just a second ago.

Once again, the call had been put on speaker out of simplicity.

"We're about five, maybe ten minutes away. What about you?"

"A lot further away than we'd like to be," Gideon mumbled but Hotch spoke up quickly after that.

"We're about three minutes from Karrel's place," Hotch glanced over at Gideon, who was riding shot gun, then quickly glanced in the mirror at the other agents who had been sitting in shocked and horrified silence in the back of the black SUV.

Returning his eyes back to the still dark road ahead of him, he made a last minute decision and shut off the sirens and lights, increasing his speed more as he said tersely,

"But we'll be there in two."

* * *

"I placed my load of Sarin in the air ducts at the Clarksville county courthouse just before I came here. It should have enough time to spread before morning, and when those despicable judges and lying lawyers come into the building after sunrise, I'd say it would take about… oh, maybe ten? Fifteen minutes at most for them to start dropping like flies."

Reid opened his mouth to ask something else, but Merryl shook her head, chuckling and raising the gun a bit higher.

"I know what you're going to ask now. Why escalate? Why not just be satisfied with the people I've already killed and let it go? Believe me, that was my intentions to start out with. To rid the world of people who were too loathsome to keep around. But there's just so many of them… and so many of those horrible people work in the government, did you know? So why not? I mean, how easy it was to sneak in there as a member of the cleaning crew, slip the Sarin in the vents and walk out…"

She then shook her head.

"Sometimes it makes me wonder if there aren't others out there who haven't done the same thing, or at least thought about it to the point of it becoming a necessity to carry out, though they must have been unable to up until now. But maybe my attack will spark several others. Maybe it will help those true victims to take matters into their own hands."

Merryl smiled then, but it was far from a normal smile. It was sick and twisted, her eyes hinting at the insanity Reid knew to be prominently present. And then the gun was leveled at his head.

"You have been a very silent audience, my dear agent. Tell me before you die; was it worth the information you now have? Was it worth the price of death?"

Licking his lips, Reid opened his mouth once more to stutter out some kind of rhetorical question, hopefully to stall a bit more and buy him some more time when the door was suddenly kicked in and the clicks of safety being removed off of hand held guns sounded out around the three of them already in the room, followed by a cry of,

"FBI, don't move!"

"Hmm." Merryl's brows furrowed, but she ignored the cries from behind her, telling her to drop the weapon and put her hands behind her head.

Instead, she continued to watch Reid, and he could see it in her eyes that she was fully calculating her next move. Then, she said with deafening clarity,

"The price of information is high, agents. Nothing in this world… is ever, _ever_ free."

Two shots rang out.

Blood was splattered against the wall.

Panic set in.

* * *

"From the deepest desires often come the deadliest hate."

- Socrates

* * *

_A/N : Oh god I'm so evil. xD One more chapter to go, folks. Keep those reviews coming!_


	9. Chapter 9

"_Get a medic in here!"_

The voice seemed so loud and so distant at the same time. In the last few moments, Reid knew his body had gone into shock from being shot. He had dimly registered that Merryl was on the floor in front of him through the burning pain in his chest, and that same burning was only made worse by the hands that were suddenly on his shoulders, dragging him upward toward the ceiling.

Or was it the floor…?

Things were spinning to badly for Reid to make any sense of what direction he was falling… His eyelids felt extremely heavy, and kept slipping down over eyes that had started to gloss over, but then the voice that had yelled before was above him, yelling angrily at him, sobbing hysterically. Was it Scott? It couldn't be; Scott didn't even know him, and he was tied up to the coffee table. Then there were more voices… What were they saying…? Straining his ears, Reid tried to force the words spoken to him through the large mind that was already starting to enter sleep mode. Something about… his eyes…

"Reid, open your eyes, Reid! Come on, look at me…!"

But no matter how much Morgan continued to pat his cheek, no matter how loudly he yelled at the young man laying underneath him, Reid's eyes continued to stay closed. His breathing had already started to slow, a pool of blood already beneath Reid's body despite Hotch's efforts to stem the blood flow by pressing his black overcoat to the wound. Letting out a quick string of curses, Morgan looked up to the doorway, yelling as loud as his already hoarse voice would let him,

"Where the hell are the EMT's?!"

Prentiss swallowed, her head turned away from Reid but her slender frame shaking from the thought of losing someone who had, in such a short time, become like family to her. She then said to Morgan, her voice barely audible,

"They're getting the stretcher out right now…"

With another loud string of curses, Morgan went back to trying to get Reid to open his eyes, to talk, to twitch; anything that would give them some sign that their youngest was still among the living. Gideon was trying not to lose it, standing against the wall, his eyes surveying the scene even though it had to be committed to memory by now. J.J. was bent down by Scott, untying him from the table leg, trying to keep her eyes averted from Reid's prone form as well.

Although it was only a few seconds later, it felt like an eternity to the rest of the unit before the EMT's finally entered the room, and then there were soft requests for Morgan and Hotch to move out of the way. And while Hotch quickly stood up and moved backward, knowing he'd done all he could, it was Morgan who refused to leave Reid's side; Morgan who refused to give up trying to wake the younger man up until Gideon finally came over and pulled him up and out of the way.

A few minutes later, Reid was rushed out of the apartment, and another for Merryl. But none of the BAU agents stayed to watch her rolled out of the apartment on a stretcher; they had already filled into the SUV again, lights and siren turned on, heading for the hospital. Heading for Reid.

* * *

Things were flashing from so bright that he couldn't see anything, to so dark seeing was impossible… Reid was floating, or at least it felt like he was. He dimly became aware that there was something hooked up to his face, but when he tried to lift his arms, he found that his entire body had become unresponsive. In fact, his body was burning with a pain that was almost unbearable, making him want to scream, but of course, that action was past his ability as well. And then there were more voices around him, but this time he couldn't make out the words. His head was just too fuzzy; he couldn't concentrate…

With a soft sigh, Reid felt him slip back into a painless oblivion.

* * *

They had each been taking turns sitting in with him. Normally, it was supposed to only be family members who were able to visit people in Reid's wavering condition, but since the agents were part of the FBI, the hospital had made and exception. During surgery, they had been able to remove the bullet, which had almost torn through his back, but had been slowed to the point it couldn't exit by a rib bone. Which at the very least meant Reid had not only lost a lot of blood, but his rib was broken. And to add even more worry, the shot had been only a few inches away from where Reid's heart was.

Morgan took a deep breath, his head in his hands as he sat by Reid's beside, just like he had been for the past three hours. He should have fired sooner, Morgan thought, recalling those last few moments that had haunted him so for the past 18 hours.

* * *

"_FBI, don't move!"_

_Morgan had busted the door down with his foot like always, but had proceeded Hotch and the others into the apartment, only to find Merryl pointing a gun and Reid._

_Helpless… young… Reid._

"_Drop the fucking gun!" he yelled again, anger and fear evident in his rising voice, even as he kept his own firearm steadily raised and aimed at Merryl's back._

_He only barely registered that the other BAU agents had filed into the apartment as well, or that they, too, were shouting at Merryl to drop the weapon. Morgan only had ears for Merryl's last words, said loud enough for everyone in the room to hear._

"_The price of information is high, agents. Nothing in this world… is ever, _ever _free."_

_Quickly squeezing the trigger on his gun, Morgan flinched terribly when he heard the report of not only his own gun, but Merryl's as well. He felt no comfort in the fact that Merryl emitted a sharp cry and fell to her side, dropping the gun; he felt no comfort in seeing blood welling up on the lower back of her shirt. His eyes were instead riveted on the blood welling on Reid's plaid shirt. It looked so close to the middle of his chest; his heart…_

_And then Morgan's gun clattered to the ground as he rushed to Reid's side, only slightly aware of Hotch beside him, taking off his black overcoat in a hurry, no doubt ready to use it to press against the wound and stem the blood…_

_Too much blood…_

_* * * _

Shuddering again, Morgan continued to think of what had happened after that. Reid's bag had been left when the EMT's had rushed his still bleeding body out on the stretcher. Rifling through it, trying to make sure everything was still there, Prentiss had found a small tape recorder; it had still been on record. They'd shut it off and played the recording back, listening in shocked horror as all the evidence they needed was recorded. They had also sent out a team of chemical specialists to the Clarksville County Courthouse to remove the Sarin that Merryl had confessed to planting there. No one had been harmed; thankfully.

Sighing, Morgan lifted his head when a hand came down on his shoulder, only to find Gideon standing above him. Gideon's old but wise eyes were watching Morgan sadly as he said softly,

"It wasn't your fault, Morgan."

Shaking his head, Morgan had opened his mouth to deny the supposed fact he held no blame for what happened to Reid when a short, clipped groan came from the bed before them, and both heads snapped up. Reid was waking up…!

* * *

About a day later, Reid was about as fully coherent as he could have been after just being shot; asking people to repeat things and craving coffee and jell-o. Of course, the agents now crowded around his bed never missed a chance to tease him about it, but at this point, Reid didn't really care. He'd obviously been given another shot at living and he'd be damned if he would throw the rest of the time he had left with the only family he had by letting whatever emotions had been eating at him this past week continue to bog him down.

The conversation around Reid continued, despite his thoughts.

"Even though it was extremely foolish of you, Reid, for going in without calling any backup, it was amazingly smart of you to bring a tape recorder and to turn it on before anything happened. You're just lucky Garcia found your call odd." Hotch said slowly, his voice stern but his eyes belying the relief he was unable to hide at having his youngest agent back in safe hands.

"Promise me you'll never to a thing like that again, Spence…" J.J. said softly, leaning by his bed and clasping his left hand faithfully.

Croaking out a small,

"I promise…" the conversation turned to lighter subjects, the UnSub having been caught and two lives saved as a result.

But unbeknownst to the rest of the team, Reid's promise had been two sided. Not only had he promised them that he'd never rush into a situation with an armed UnSub with only a tape recorder and a gun of his own, he'd also promised himself he'd never take for granted the way the team treated him again. At least, not if he could help it.

In fact… Reid found himself suddenly wanting to sit down with Morgan, a crossword puzzle in front of the both of them.

* * *

"The most authentic thing about us is our capacity to create, to overcome, to endure, to transform, to love and to be greater than our suffering."

- Ben Okri

* * *

**END**

_A/N : Alright! I'm finished with this story, but I'm still concerned that my endings are very lame. Also, do tell me if this particular chapter was too hard to follow and I'll try and rewrite it when I can focus more. =/ BUT that's beside the point. Please review, and do look into my new story, A State Of Anger, which is the sequel to A State Of Mind, and have a good day!!_

_Also, big thanks to paper. creations, Sandy Toehs, martina, mykidmom, hatochiisai, DJSteele, HOmUncLUsLuVR123, ilovemiax, and angeleyes46 for your wonderful reviews!! Such a big help all of you have been!!_


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